some people go to palm readers

in downtown los angeles

but everything youd ever want to know about me resides in my poop.

i used to work at a place where id be in the bathroom all the time.

another place id be puking every day.

after a while i realized it wasnt that they were crazy,

obviously i was the crazy one, doubly crazy for twisting myself inside out to fit in with them.

while everyone knew full well i was the alien creature, the elephant in the room.

during my cookie diet my poops came with fed ex tracking.

they came in perfect containers, legible writing, and always on time.

id only use one roll of tp for an entire month.

i was one with the universe in every aspect of my life

from wine women to song.

and then two weeks ago, baseball returned, as did the cubs,

and i became fatter, balder, and for the first time in a long time

i had to stock up on tp and tums.

and here it is 9am on a sunday, im wide awake, stomachs gurgling, im out of everything.

im reevaluating everything in my life, considering a shrink, even thinking i might just have to go to church.

all while six cubs hats stare at me from around my room

pretending to be oh so innocent,

and benign.